


lip & lip & lips

by kendrasaunders



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Smoochy smoochy someone's in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:04:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrasaunders/pseuds/kendrasaunders
Summary: Zari did, in fact, mack on Helen of Troy. Amaya finds this very exciting.





	lip & lip & lips

“Did you kiss Helen?”

It’s not an ideal time to be asked a question- Zari’s got her toothbrush working on her back molars, lower-left side, and her mouth is frothy and fluoride-filled. And if she hadn’t been brushing her teeth, which she is, she still considers it an off-putting question, seemingly out of nowhere, punctuated only by Amaya staring at Zari, still holding her tooth brush, slack-jawed, in the bathroom mirror.

Zari manages, “Hmth?”

Amaya responds with one of those pretty, curious blinks, and repeats, “You know, Helen. Did you kiss her?”

At this point in their relationship, Zari has come to an understanding that she and Amaya will never sync up in their timing- They’re both forward but slightly pushy, and where Zari is tactless Amaya is only sometimes gently oblivious.

Zari spits into the sink. “Like-“ She rinses her toothbrush. “Helen of Troy, Helen?”

“Have you kissed other Helens?” Amaya asks. She’s just standing there, too, all casual, her pajamas already on, her socks with little bears on them.

“Why are you-“ Zari considers her own sweatpants as she puts her toothbrush in the little plastic case labeled “Z”, putting it next to Amaya’s case, closing the cabinet. “What uh, brought this on, pal?”

The word pal, Zari notes, is three letters and weighs two tons- It fell out of her mouth by accident, and she’s hoping it’s just one of those things Amaya will be too old to notice, like how she thinks “chum” is also still an acceptable word, and doesn’t bring to mind the idea of cut-up fish pieces.

“Oh,” Amaya says, one hand on the sink counter, resting her weight on her arm. “I was watching you brush your teeth, and I remembered I’d forgotten to ask.”

“Right,” Zari says, to the most Amaya explanation possible, the dots of her sentence connecting to the simple fact that she’d been staring at Zari’s mouth. Zari is always tracing shapes from Amaya’s dots, an unfamiliar but learned process. Zari finds her own mind works like conspiracy charts, has trouble with a more logical progression. Teeth brushing is mouth is lips, lips is kissing, kissing is Helen.

But how long had Amaya been meaning to ask this for? Helen’s been gone for _weeks._

“It’s-“ Amaya taps her fingers in a pattern, pinky ring middle index and back. “Is that weird? I’ve just been- Curious.”

“How curious?” Zari asks, nodding for the door. Amaya follows, their path slow, quiet. As nighttime as nighttime can get, when there isn’t one. “I mean, not curious enough that like, it’s been burning in your thoughts. Because it’s been a while.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Amaya says, half trailing off. “I- I mean, she just liked you the most of all of us, I think. She _adored_ you.”

Zari pauses in her step, the softness of her slippers taking in the weight of her feet. “Adored is… a strong word.”

“I know,” Amaya says, quietly. “I like to pick words with purpose.”

Zari raises her eyebrows. There’s the hint of a challenge there. A notion of Amaya sticking her finger into the center of a subject of it and pressing down. “Helen was cool,” Zari offers.

“Cool,” Amaya repeats.

“And she was… I dunno why she liked me more than like, you- I mean, look at you, you two are both old and-“

“I’m not _old,”_ Amaya protests.

“Old but beautiful,” Zari says.

Amaya purses her a lips for a moment, but decides to accept it, swishing her shoulders with a hint of pride. “I’m still not old,” she says.

“Yes you are,” Zari says, bumping her arm against Amaya’s. “That’s why I thought Helen would like you most. You could bond over being best friends with some dinosaurs, or some shit.”

“I am best friends with a dinosaur,” Amaya says.

The door to Amaya’s room hisses open.

“I know, Amaya,” Zari says. “You’ve told me.”

Amaya’s smile is partially sheepish and partially kind of amused, not so much at what Zari’s saying but more like she’s recalling fun times with Gertrude, who probably is better at this than Zari is. “You’d like her. She’s funny.”

 

Zari lets Amaya walk ahead and fall into bed, graceful even in exhaustion.

“Yes,” she says, leaning on the doorway, crossing her arms.

“Yes what?” Amaya asks.

“Yes,” Zari says. “I kissed Helen of Troy. On the mouth.”

Amaya rearranges her position, moving to sit on her knees. “Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me,” Zari says. “You asked!”

“No,” Amaya says, tilting her head. “I didn’t mean ‘oh,’ in a negative way, I just meant ‘oh, I thought we were talking about something else.’”

“I thought you were wearing me down,” Zari says.

Amaya’s lips curl upward, and she’s catlike and unfairly, cloyingly pretty, all at once. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“First of all, old lady,” Zari says. “We weren’t even, like, a thing yet, so-“

“I wasn’t asking because of _that,_ ” Amaya says, innocently. “I was just _wondering._ ”

“I just want to know-“ Zari gestures, just a little bewildered. “Why it took you this long to ask.”

“I kept forgetting,” Amaya says. “We’ve had other things to deal with.”

Zari takes a step into the room.

“Don’t make an old lady joke,” Amaya says. “That’s just not- What I always think about. When I think about you.”

“What do you think about, then?” Zari says. “If you’re not thinking about my mouth.”

“Are you always thinking about my mouth?” Amaya asks. Zari leaves a pause between them, watches Amaya pull a scarf from under her pillow. Her hair’s already pinned up, and the silk print matches her pajamas- She asks Gideon to fabricate matching sets. Every time. She puts the scarf over her hair, taking the ends and crossing them behind her head, then tying them in the front. “Zari.”

“Hm?” Zari asks, always fixated on the way Amaya looks when all her hair’s been tucked in, and Zari has no where to look but Amaya’s face.

“Are you always thinking about my mouth?” Amaya repeats. She’s got a little smugness to her, something worth stretching out and playing with.

“I wasn’t when I macked on Helen,” Zari says, if only for the way Amaya smirks at her, eyebrow cocked with intent.

“Is that _so?_ ” Amaya asks. “It was a full on… macking, is what you said?”

“A french kiss,” Zari says. “Tonsil hockey.”

“Indecent,” Amaya replies, with just the hint of a smolder. “Whose tonsils won?”

“What?” Zari says.

“If you’re playing… hockey,” Amaya says. “Did I lose it?”

“Yeah, a little,” Zari says.

“Come lay down,” Amaya says, her point in the discussion decided, moving off her knees and onto her back.

“Not tired,” Zari replies.

“How long did you kiss Helen for?” Amaya says. “What was it like?”

“Uh, it was-“ Zari makes a face, her chin sticking out slightly as she pouts her lower lip. “Why do you ask? I told you I kissed her.”

“I want to know,” Amaya says. “Pretty please?”

 

Zari gives in to any Amaya “please” on instinct, and a “pretty please” is a snare trap. She lets out a small, resigned noise, mostly to watch Amaya roll her eyes. Zari gestures to the bed, kicking off her slippers by the door and closing it behind her. “Move over.”

Amaya moves with due diligence, watching Zari fall into place beside her. She’s never quiet when she stares- Zari can feel Amaya’s thoughts, practically in her own head. It’s really all in Amaya’s eyes, the sort of mile a minute cascade of questions she’s always running through, and sometimes Zari wonders if for Amaya, it’s just like white noise.

“So,” Zari says, resting on her stomach, arms folded under her chin. “I kissed Helen of Troy.”

“You said there was tongue involved,” Amaya adds, and when she moves to mirror Zari’s position, it feels almost too adolescent for the both of them, too much like sleeping over and not enough like a relationship. It’s a weird feeling she gets with this sometimes, like they’re sharing a bed and a relationship but only sort of and maybe they’re not sharing enough of anything else. It’s like maybe neither of them is really sure where the next step is in this.

Incidentally, Zari thinks, the next step was probably _not_ kissing Helen of Troy, with tongue.

“I took her on the drop ship to Themyscira,” Zari says, looking to her pillow and not to Amaya’s face, where she’d be able to see thoughts. “And she was like, really happy? I didn’t do it like, planning to kiss her, but she kind of-“

“ _She_ kissed _you?_ ” Amaya asks.

“Wow, thanks,” Zari says.

“No,” Amaya says. “I mean, you’re very- Your mouth is- Helen just- That’s not what I meant.”

The flustering is enough to make Zari crack a smile, a joke between herself and Amaya’s way with words. “She like, put herself on my lap and wrapped her arms around me and kissed me,” Zari says. “And she was really good at kissing, so we kept kissing for a while. And that’s the story.”

There’s a steady, thoughtful silence that fills the space between them. Zari looks at Amaya, and Amaya is chewing her lip.

“Anything else?” Zari asks.

“That’s all you did?” Amaya asks. “Just kiss?”

“I didn’t get to second base with Helen of Troy,” Zari says. “No.”

“Did you want to?” Amaya says. Her expression bears a certain kind of eagerness to it, just a tease of excitement.

Zari takes that expression into very serious account. “Did you?”

“I mean, she was-“ Amaya looks at the ceiling, tilts her head. “Like, gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Zari says, though looking at Amaya, at this angle, in this light, she thinks that maybe Amaya is gorgeous, and Helen, too, but differently. “I mean, you’re-“

“What did she kiss like?” Amaya says, and pauses. “I’m sorry. Were you saying something?”

“I’m just trying to gauge if you’re like, jealous or not,” Zari says. “Are you jealous?”

Amaya shakes her head.

“Are you-“ Zari watches Amaya for a second, trying to find the proper feelings written on her face. “Are you into this?”

“Are you?” Amaya asks.

“I asked you first,” Zari says.

“Yes,” Amaya says back, very softly.

“I’m sorry?” Zari says.

“I said yes,” Amaya says. “Because you asked first.”

“That doesn’t usually work on people,” Zari says.

“Oh,” Amaya responds. “Sorry.”

“I like that- I like that you took it literally, though,” Zari says. “I like when you do that. It’s- It makes you you.”

Amaya chews on her tongue for a moment, taking in a compliment. “Am I wrong?”

Zari brushes her toes against the comforter, finding grounding in the friction. “Hm?”

“Is it- Not hot?” Amaya says. “I thought it was… hot.”

Zari says, “You’re hot,” before she can stop herself.

Amaya smiles. “Aw,” she says. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Zari says. “You’re like, the only person that just rolls with my shit. I can just say stuff to you and it’s not like- You don’t make me feel bad, I guess.”

Amaya giggles for a moment, burying her mouth against her arms.

Zari bumps her with her shoulder. “What?”

“That’s so nice,” Amaya exclaims, and Zari doesn’t think Amaya could stop grinning right now even of she tried. “I’d say the same to you, but you’re always telling me how old I am.”

Zari grins. “Shut the fuck up.”

Amaya just laughs.

 

Zari presses her tongue against the back of her teeth. “You want to know how Helen kissed?”

Amaya looks at Zari, far more obvious this time when her gaze drops to her lips. She nods.

Zari leans in, letting her nose brush Amaya’s for an instant, letting the caution of the kiss hang in the air between them. There had been a way Helen kissed that had felt like freedom, and while Zari and Amaya have kissed before now Zari hasn’t done so with Helen’s unabashed intensity- Not that Zari isn’t passionate, just guarded, and afraid of being overwhelming.

She doesn’t pause again, not for a small first kiss, not for Amaya to breathe in. This kiss is immediate and consuming, requires the shifting of positions without remembering to think of it first. Zari tugs Amaya on top of her, rolling onto her back, and puts one arm around Amaya’s shoulders- The other takes Amaya by the hair, a steadfast reminder of the way Zari is kissing her, with the intent to take Amaya’s mouths even when their lips feel too slick and their teeth gently knock.

Zari feels when Amaya rests her hips against her left leg, finds satisfaction in the immediate grind of Amaya against her pajama leg, the neediness that Amaya has no issue in succumbing to. Zari finds that Helen didn’t teach her how to kiss, but her instructions, the way Zari shifts her head so Amaya can deepen the kiss and grab Zari by her hair, are greatly appreciated.

It is the kind of romantic thing that Zari has been feeling between them but has been unsure how to act on. The kiss speaks volumes of her intentions, her lips doing the work without actually having to make words. She isn’t silent, but the small gasps between her mouth and Amaya’s are a certain means of communication.

“Is-“ Amaya comes up for air, her mouth not yet swollen but thoroughly used. “Is _that_ how Helen kisses?”

“Yeah,” Zari says, with no intent of ever taking her eyes off Amaya’s face. “Pretty much.”

“Funny,” Amaya says. “Because I really thought she’d kiss more like this.”

She tugs Zari upwards and meets her halfway, kissing her with a sense of grandeur that is sweeping and unfamiliar.

This is how Amaya kisses, when she thinks she is kissing like a deity.

Zari finds it easier to give into the worship of it. So she does.

 


End file.
